Poethead
Reading the Omens
A chorus of voices called, No! when I reached for the latch Don’t let her out, she’ll die. A monarch hatched from the rafters. Her orange and black wings a mirror to the hot coals that waked her. A trail of twisted cobweb sported flies as if it were a kite tail tied with bows and she ready to be launched to the sky. Though we turned away, she is with me still, as I plan for the days ahead. Take this as written: when my time comes, to hatch from this body I want you to open the window. First published in Boyne Berries 18, in the autumn of 2015 Published online at Trevor Conway’s website; Poems in Profile #17 (April, 2016-07-15)
Let Morning Come
(after Jane Kenyon) Let the street lamps blink out, the lights of…
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